Enhanced
by apocalypticangel47
Summary: A huge case is brought to the SVU team, one that seems to defy everything human. Can the team help the US Government solve the case?
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

"Do you have one on your desk?" Benson asked, frantically lifting John's papers from his desk.

"Hey! _Hey!_ That's important stuff!" Munch hissed.

"Fine, let me ask again: do you have one of these?" Benson interrogated slowly, deliberately, and angrily.

"Olivia, stop harassing John. You've all got one. Pack up your desks: you're taking on a case," Cragen spoke, causing Stabler and Fin to look up from their computers.

"What kind of case? Dickie starts t-ball tonight and I need to be there for him," Elliot asked. Cragen nodded.

"Munch will be your captain during this case," Cragen said with a slight smirk as John muttered "This shit again?" under his breath. "Sargent, you're in charge of your own personnel, the decisions that affect them, and filling out their hours forms. This isn't an open/shut case, nor is it an easy one, but I wanted my best on it."

"What kind of case is this?" Fin asked, finding him summons and scanning it. All it mentioned was a warehouse and a lot of unsolved cases.

"A classified one. The FBI recently discovered it, and now they've placed everything they could in a warehouse, along with temporary offices for the detectives who will work through it. They wanted my detectives due to your good track records. Don't screw that up before this even begins," Cragen said sternly. "Now hurry up. The temporary detectives are coming within the hour and will need a place to work."

"How long is this going to last?" John asked, pulling out a large box and tossing his personals into it.

"Until the case is solved or you deem it unsolvable. I imagine it's going to take a while to go through everything, and a long time to get with each witness, analyze each piece of evidence, and determine if those are the only victims."

"Analyzing evidence? We need specialists for that, like Warner, the computer specialists-" Olivia listed, stopping her packing to give Cragen a skeptical look.

"Warner and a temporary lab will be at your disposal, and the rest of your needs can be covered by those that are still here. Listen, detectives: you are all about to take on the hardest case of your lives. Though John will be running things, I'm still calling the shots. You will get to see your son play t-ball, you three can occasionally spend your nights doing whatever it is you do, but work your magic on this case. The nation needs it; the nation needs _you_."

With that, Cragen returned to his office. His detectives obeyed, but they were all nervous. What kind of hard case needs to be built in a warehouse? What kind of case gets thrown at SVU that affects the entire nation, not just their borough? They were all about to find out, whether they wanted to or not.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

The four detectives and Dr. Warner were led into the warehouse's front office by an FBI agent. He gave them their ID badges and showed them the locker room and bunks for the detectives, along with how to use the scanner to gain access to anything past the front door (since Munch and Stabler both couldn't do it).

"Doctor, this is your lab here," the agent directed, leading them into a hallway with just two doors. Both had the scan locks, so Melinda used hers to open the lab.

After placing her personal items on her new desk, she returned to the detectives.

"Is that enough for you?" the agent questioned. She nodded.

"I just want to see what they're working with."

"Oh, this is for all of you," the agent smiled. He allowed Munch to do the honors and open up the area for the detectives. When the lock clicked and the agent opened the door, the detectives nearly fainted.

There had to have been a thousand boxes stacked on shelves towards the back of the large space. They noticed there were more to their right around the time Olivia dropped her box. Glass broke, and Elliot helped her by picked up the box and setting it on the front two desks. He then began picking out the broken glass (from a picture frame) while the agent led them to their new office area, which was closed off from the warehouse by temporary walls but still open.

"This is your printer, fax machine, and scanner," the agent said, pointing to the large machine against a wall that was hidden to them from the doorway. The ones standing there moved around, and they sighed at the machine...or at least Munch did. "This is your office, Sargent," he pointed. Another lock was on that door that required a scanner, but Munch didn't mind at this point: he was just happy to have somewhere to put his box.

"Question: do we have interrogation rooms or something?" Fin asked. The agent smiled pointing to the wall to behind them.

"There are four, and each have one-way mirrors and a speaker system to keep things visible and heard. There's also a television on a cart in one of the rooms that can be moved to each of the others. It has a VHS player built into it for easy viewing, but you'll want that last room on the right for most of the playable material."

"Why?" Benson asked, sipping water from a cooler on the other side of the temporary wall.

"Most of it is on some sort of film. The projectors and machines you will need is all in there, along with instructions on how to use it," the agent smirked, eyeing Munch, who gave him a dirty look back.

"Those I can use, in case you didn't notice my shoe leather face that's been crinkled with age," he spat.

"I apologize," the agent whispered, turning from the man to keep him from seeing the grin on his face. "Now, as Benson has already discovered, there's a break area on the other side of the wall. It has a microwave and a refrigerator if any of you are keen on leftovers, and there's a television with basic cable if you want ten minutes to watch sports."

"What other amenities do we get?" Fin asked.

"Your bathrooms are off that front area, and they will be cleaned twice a day by a cleaning service that does a lot of neighboring buildings. They'll make sure the restrooms are stocked with the toiletries and supplies you all may need. Also, if you need any of our men with some of these cases, I'll be the one who tries to produce them."

"How's your record with that?" Elliot asked skeptically, sitting on what was now his desk. The agent smiled, knowing exactly what his question meant.

"They will be produced within three business days unless they're already dead," the agent replied confidentially. Elliot nodded, getting comfortable on the desk top. "I know the next question involves the case. Well...let's go into your board room to discuss it. I've already got a slideshow prepared for your viewing pleasure," the agent smiled, gesturing to a door that was hidden by shelves before. The detectives and Dr. Warner shuffled into it, taking their spots around the table.

The agent closed the door and cut the lights. The projector's glow illuminated the room, and the slide inside was now visible. It read "The Enhanced Killer." The agent began to narrate:

"In 1843, a scientist in Berlin, Germany passed away, leaving his records to his wife and his four sons. None of them touched the paperwork because it was requested by universities all over the world, including one here. The family pooled the names together and drew one from a hat. The American university won, and the papers were shipped here.

"The paperwork was immediately hard to stomach. This doctor was experimenting on humans, but they had no idea what some of his words meant. A former lab assistant was sent here by ship to translate the papers and shed some light on the experiment.

"The doctor was enhancing certain men using a radioactive drug, though he didn't know that at the time. Whatever he did to these people caused various affects: many died after the first injection, the rest became ill in various forms, from cancer to a constant cough. But one man acted as the scientist wanted: he became invincible.

"The man was brought here within the month they discovered this, and they began to study him. But funding was cut for the program as the railroad business began to rise, and it eventually fell apart.

"Since 1879, this enhanced, immortal man has been raping women and children. He started in New York, where they were studying him, but he's made a round trip around the continental US since that time. We are still finding cases, as this pattern was not discovered until six months ago, but know that these boxes are probably nothing. Most of the cases weren't documented, but since he liked the change things up every decade or so, some haven't fit the pattern yet.

"To answer some of your questions: the evidence that was collected, no matter how old, has been tested. The results have been placed in each file box. Dr. Warner will be the one who will double check this data if you need it. Doctor, you will have access to every DNA database available, including the military's. All of you are working with a sensitive, iclassified/i case now. Though you get perks, you must keep this case a secret. Any questions?" the agent asked.

"Do we have sketches of Superman, maybe even something that physically links him to these cases?" John asked. The agent nodded.

"At every scene, he cuts a particular shape from their blouses. This slide contains a photograph of three hundred of them, but there are still more in the box," the agent explained.

"The smaller shapes are from the children...," Benson whispered. The agent shifted in his position, but he nodded to her.

"We've got to find this guy and bring him down, but we wanted some of the best to do it, and we discovered that you five fit the bill."

"What happens if we can't put everything together? There's got to be, what, a thousand cases out there? How long are we supposed to look before passing this off on someone else?" Elliot asked. The agent sighed.

"There's five thousand cases so far, but there are more, and my guys are working on that. They're the ones who have established a pattern, and they are the ones who will be given the case after five years."

"Five years?" Benson exclaimed.

"What happens if one of us dies first?" Munch coughed, hoping no one would hear him. Fin did, and he eyed him closely.

"We've all got lives outside our cases, but look at all of the victims here," the agent said quietly, reeling in the exasperated detectives and attempting to calm them down. "There's at least five thousand women, children, and some men who need our help. You can provide that, and you can do so within normal work hours. You can leave at five each weekday unless you are questioning a witness or out in the field. The weekends are yours for the taking."

"What about me? I won't be needed every day, but I have plenty of other cases to work on," Dr. Warner asked.

"You were assigned to them, and you also have a temporary replacement back at your home base," the agent responded. "I need to leave now, but here are the key rings for each of you. There are three cars, a van, and an off-road vehicle at your disposal. As you may have noticed when you arrived, there is also an airport nearby. If you need to travel, you will fly out using an aircraft we have there.

"All of you have phones on your desk, but I am aware that you each have cell phones as well. You are to use code to address everyone. Sargent, a suggestion of a code is in a file on your desk. We will be monitoring your phone calls, and if you give us a good reason, we will also follow you to make sure you tell no one about this case. This is a classified case, and you tell no one about it. You leave the files here or you stay here with files. If you tell one person outside of this circle about this case, you will go to prison. This includes agents you call in for questioning: just ask what they know and leave it at that," the agent said sternly. John raised his hand. "Yes, Sargent?"

"What if the agents already know?"

"You don't say anything. These agents know how to fish with their words, and they'll go fishing with you if you appear to be weak. This is not a case for the weak, and that's why I asked for all of you. Do your nation proud, okay? Here's my card. My codename is Billy Jenkins, which is printed on the card. My real name is in that code file, 'kay Sargent? Good day," the agent nodded, leaving the room...then the warehouse...then the lot.

"I think we're over our heads on this one," Melinda whispered, picking up the business card and going to her office. "I'll be twiddling my thumbs if you need me."

The four watched her leave the room silently. None of them had any idea what to say to this, nor how they should go about handling it. So they sat there trying to take everything in, knowing that was nearly impossible. But they were going to try: they had no choice. 


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

"We can't solve a case sitting on our ass," Munch whispered, standing up. The others followed, but they had no idea where to start. So Munch, after a deep sigh, followed them to their desk to issue orders. Fin just thought he was following them.

"You're the boss now, John. Where are you going?" Fin asked.

"Issuing your orders," he replied. "Olivia, you're in charge of looking through that," John pointed. Olivia picked up the thick file labeled "Patterns." "Examine their findings in case they're wrong about something. Use that marker board to post the main links between the cases. Elliot, you'll be creating a timeline based off her information. I want to know when his patterns changed, and how many people he raped during those periods. Fin, when specific cases come up with their findings, you get to find them on the shelf and provide key details that might not be in that report."

"Anything else?" Elliot asked, smirking at John. "Boss man," he added, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Get on it," he smirked, cocking his head a little as the laughing stopped.

While John settled into his office to start working on the mountains of paperwork, the team got to work. The marker boards, which were on a stand with wheels, were brought around from their "supply closet" (a large cubicle filled with random items they might need) by Elliot. He and Olivia pulled markers from their desks while Fin sat on his, watching intently as Olivia flipped through the opening pages of the report.

After a few minutes watching her read, Olivia pulled a highlighter from her desk. After highlighting a line, she handed the report to Fin.

"Read that out to me so I can put it on the board," she instructed. He nodded, letting her open the marker and position herself before speaking.

"'The first rape occurred in 1879 on Fifth Avenue. He did not cut a piece of fabric from the woman's dress, but he marked his name in the woman's thigh. This occurred in all fifteen rapes between 1879 and 1896'," Fin read. Both Elliot and Olivia marked the information on their boards.

This continued until the team reached the 1950's. A particular case involving three women broke his pattern: before he'd only raped one woman at a time, and he left them alive. Two of the three women passed away. Using Fin's scan of the case file, they discovered that the third woman later passed away from an infection in the scar tissue.

"How many victims do we have so far?" Munch asked. The three turned to him, but Fin noticed his phone was off the hook in his office, meaning he hadn't figure out how to hold a call yet.

"In the transitional cases, only about a hundred so far, but between them we've already hit fifteen-hundred," Fin responded.

"And that's only to 1950?" Munch asked. Elliot moved so that John could see the board. He eyed it and nodded.

"What that phone call about?" Fin question as Munch tried to walk away. John turned and sighed heavily.

"There's another case, a current one, in Upstate New York. The agents wanted to know if any of us were available to join them with the victim. This is more important than questioning her at the moment, so forget I said anything."

"How is this more important than a fresh victim?" Olivia asked sternly.

"Look at the numbers, Liv. One more can wait," John whispered.

This set the tone for the rest of the day. John kept an eye on the current victim while they uncovered more...and more...and even more. There were approximately one hundred transitional cases where the man changed his tune, with three hundred victims in them. Between those, there were two thousand victims, most of whom were dead.

But at least they now had a clear idea on who they were working with, and they reported this idea to John in the boardroom.

"He starts within his comfort zone, marking his women to show them his power. But when he becomes targeted in his first hunting grounds, he moves south to New Jersey and changes his tune: he starts cutting the fabric instead of carving his name. He continues marking them this way," Olivia explained.

"Including the latest one. Continue," John whispered.

"In 1931, he begins targeting employed women in the DC area. He robs his victims, probably to stay alive himself. When World War II starts up, he moves to Pennsylvania and stops robbing his victims. Instead, he takes out key workers in the manufacturing business, such as the women who worked at a plant that made the shells for bullets. He even raped a male foreman who controlled the shipments in and out of the plant. He carved his name into this victim like he did to the first ones and attempted to slice his throat. He failed, and he took out his rage on a passing woman. He carved his name into her and took her entire shirt. They found it in an empty apartment in Tennessee months later," Elliot explained.

"He took a break between 1945 and 1951, but when he showed up again, he was in Montana and he was robbing again: he took their shoes. His favorites were heels, and he usually left the heel part behind. This continues until 1959 when he leaves the shoes but takes their makeup," Fin explained. Olivia then stood, moving to the board.

"But there's one case in the 50's that breaks all of these patterns: he targeted three woman in Utah. He tied up two of them and raped the third. When he was done, he slashed her all over her body, putting a strip of the blouse into his collection. He did the same with the second and the third, but the second woman survived until 1961 when her scar tissue became infected. I'm still looking over the case to make sure it's him, but it's the only huge deviation in his entire career, aside from maybe the latest," Olivia sighed. John nodded, listening to Elliot and Fin as they went through the next forty years.

"He went through three hundred women in the sixties, mainly protestors in California. He took their sunglasses and a piece of their denim jeans. In 1969, they discovered a quilt made from those patches in a Houston home. The sunglass lenses from each victim had been carefully added to each victim."

"In 1971, he started just raping and going again. When he was done, he took the patch and ran. By the looks of things, he used the bus systems to target women all over the states," Fin explained, tossing his file angrily to the desk as he let Elliot take the floor again.

"In 1989, he started raping women who wore blue shirts. Eighty women in Chicago were raped and had pieces of their blue blouses removed. All of the women were also registered Republican voters, and all of them helped with the Republican campaigns within the time period," Elliot whispered. "After '92, he slowed down, but he targets Upstate New Yorkers who wore flowered hats. He cut the flowers off the hats and took them with him."

"And the one today goes back to his oldest rapes. He raped her in her own backyard in Upstate New York. When he was done, he used her own box cutter to carve his name into her thigh. But...he also left something at the scene," John explained. He then moved to the printer. The three watched as he pulled out a black and white photograph. It was one from the crime scene, and it was a letter. "He knows we're onto him. He made a few agents when they were surveiling possible suspects last month, and now that he knows we're on him, we need to go faster."

"I don't think we can," Warner called from behind them. "I've been looking at the database of evidence. I decided to focus on the scenes with degraded DNA or evidence that couldn't fly in court. I found a pattern, and...it breaks all the rules of science."

"What do you mean?" Fin asked. Warner pulled some transparencies from the file she was carrying. She placed them on the surface of Fin's desk, then she pulled two from the stack.

"This is from a 1952 rape. The fluids were gathered, but they didn't know that at the time. Agents in '98 found the DNA and ran it, but it didn't match the '96 sample they had, or the '88 or the '76 samples. It's the same guy, but his DNA keeps changing. The closer together the samples come, the less changed they are, such as the ones within the last ten years. But after twenty years, it's completely different."

"Is that even possible?" Elliot asked. Warner gave him a stern look.

"If there weren't so many victims making positive ID's, I'd agree with you. But, there are some strange occurrences that many linked to technology of the era. Victims from the early 1900's said he had red hair. From 1950 to around 1976, he was blond. In the 80's, light brown; the 90's dark brown-"

"And today his hair was black. It's not dye though, it's his DNA?" John suggested. Melinda nodded. "We look into his strange changes in appearance tomorrow," John commanded. The group nodded, packing up for the day and heading home.

Despite their set hours, the case still wouldn't leave their minds, especially John's. He remained late to turn off everything, but eventually he settled into his office with certain reports, reading into the night. He knew they had to find this guy, especially with a letter being found at a recent crime scene. He also had to find him before he killed again.

John didn't tell the group this, but their latest victim was near-death, and he expected her to pass away during the night. She was raped and attacked in the same way as the previous dead victims, and John knew it was rage that caused both. He just had to find the irritant...the needle in a humungous hay stack. 


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

"John?" Olivia whispered. John raised his head slowly, trying to gain his bearings in a strange place. "Were you here all night?"

"Yeah," he said quietly, stretching slowly. He looked down to the files on his desk. "I need to figure this guy out before he hurts someone else."

"Too late for that, John. Don't you ever turn your phone on?" Fin asked, throwing John his jacket. "Our head agent wants everyone at this scene. Warner and Elliot are already there, so we need to get moving."

John obeyed, putting on his jacket and accepting a hot tea from Olivia. He rode with the two of them, allowing them to navigate the highways to arrive at the scene.

Once there, all of them realized how bad this guy was. There were sixteen bodies total of men, women, and children. Each were brutally raped and beaten to death with a tire iron. And when that became too slippery from the blood and tissue, he used various rocks around the area.

"We've been processing since the scene was found around three this morning," Warner whispered. "We know there's at least three more, but we can't find their bodies anywhere."

"How do you know that?" Fin asked. Warner pointed to lights from a nearby building that were flickering behind wind-touched trees.

"There was a funeral going on, and we found the guest log. Three names are listed that aren't accounted for here. The pastor is the only one who lived, but only because he did his sick, sick bidding," Warner explained.

"Worse than the children?" John asked, eyeing the smallest body bags closely.

"He hit him with the iron and forced him to have sex with the body in the coffin," Warner whispered. "If that's not the sickest I've seen, then I may need to rethink my career choice."

"Well you're doing a fine job, Doctor," an agent said from behind her. She didn't respond to him: instead she turned around and continued examining the bodies and crime scene for clues. "So, John, did you hear about yesterday's victim?"

"I knew she was pass," John whispered, nodding quietly. The agent shook his head. "What do you mean by that?"

"She lived until he came into the hospital and beat her again. Then he came here, a mere ten minutes away. The funeral started at nine o'clock, and he was here right on time. He targeted everyone out here, then returned inside because he knew the pastor was missing," the agent explained. "I believe she already briefed you on that part of the story."

"She did, but...why is he killing? Why now at least?" Elliot asked. The agent gestured towards a small trailer. The five of them crammed themselves around the agent's desk.

"We've been watching two men that fit the latest descriptions. This one was a bust, though he resembles the man closely. This one is our guy," the agent said, hitting a key on his keyboard and pulling up a surveillance photograph. "When he caught my guys following him, he peed on their car, threw his cup at their windshield, and stormed off. He's been angry ever since."

"That explains the letter then," Fin said sternly before asking the agent to pull up the photograph of it. "All he talks about is how misunderstood he is. That's not him being insecure, that's his way of lashing out."

"When there's not a tire iron and a funeral around," Elliot said sarcastically, stepping back and crossing his arms.

"What I don't get are those victims he killed before: was he angry then, or just blowing off steam?" Olivia asked.

"Both," the agent replied. "That summer, one of his victims almost got away. He managed to control her with some good knotting of some electrical cable, but it still pissed him off. He targeted those three women because they were free-spirited, and he killed them because he could."

"But why didn't he kill other victims? More things have probably pissed him off over the years than a woman running or some detectives blowing his cover."

"Olivia's right. Have your guys looked for him in murder cases too or just the rapes?" Fin asked.

"I'll have them start, but that'll take days. Right now, I have a job for you: the press has caught wind of this, but...we're going to throw them some lies to keep this guy from doing it again. Elliot, here's your script. When they start asking questions, back away and come back," the agent directed. Elliot gave him a skeptical look.

"How is this going to work? We're here: that's enough for him," Elliot said sternly.

"It's the option my superiors gave to me. The other was to say nothing, but sixteen people are dead: we can't just leave them all out of the dark."

"I think I'd prefer that to lying to 'em," Fin whispered darkly. The agent looked to him with a strange expression.

"I agree with my men: it's nothing or the truth," John added, sticking up for his partners. The agent sighed.

"Majority rules then," he said quietly, putting the script back into his desk. He then looked back up to Munch. "As your team's leader, I'll let you decide whether or not to get back to work. My guys will send you the report when they're done, if that's what you prefer."

John, being a democratic leader, let his team decide. They all chose to return to the warehouse and continue examining files.

"Good," the agent nodded, walking them to their cars. "If you don't mind, I'd like to keep Dr. Warner."

"That's fine with me," Melinda called from behind them, wheeling another body bag-filled gurney to an awaiting ambulance. "There are certain specimens I wish to collect anyway."

With everything settled, the detectives returned to the warehouse, their minds swimming with the details of the case. 


End file.
